#while all being gifty

[giftyforyou]

Wait oh my god you kin gifty? I'm so sorry I did not eat you as Ozeca I promise gently holds and pats

i'm genuinely unsure at first it was a joke but then i set up the blog aesthetic and went WAIT

being called gifty makes me happy all i know for sure :)

[mjtheartist04]

Happy FruitBats🦇🍒 day and Happy Anniversary to my wonderful sweet darling wife @hypocriticaltypwriter

Already One year of being best friends and yet it feels like we’ve been friends my whole life🥺…

God I sometimes don’t know what to say because I feel like words are not enough to express how much I appreciate and love you…

Thank you…gosh! just thank you for being such a supportive and caring friend! for being there for me when I needed it and for making me such beautiful thoughtful gifts. I always admire the person that you are, so kind and hardworking, always bringing a smile on peoples faces, one of the sweetest and kindest souls I’ve had the honor of meeting…i couldn’t ask for a better friend💕🥹

I treasure every little moment and every little memory we have together, my days always become so much brighter when I spend them with you, even if it’s just for a small moment, you’ve never failed to put a smile on my silly face. and I can’t wait to spend many more years and make lots of new memories with you🫶

Love you to the moon and back🌙💖

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Jay Kuo at The Status Kuo:

There’s a strange phenomenon occurring with the terminally online right. Ever since Vice President Kamala Harris announced that Gov. Tim Walz would be her running mate, many of the right have acted with fury. They’ve attempted to “Swift Boat” his 24-year service record in the Army National Guard. They’ve called him a racist for talking about “white guy tacos.” And they’ve dredged up a nearly 30-year old DUI—for which he took accountability and after which he stopped drinking altogether—to prove he’s somehow not so perfect a role model.

What they haven’t been able to do is make any of this stick. And yet, Walz continues to draw fire, which could otherwise have been directed at Harris. In other words, Walz is turning out to be a shrewd pick. At net 11 points positive favorability in polls, Walz is immensely more popular than his counterpart on the GOP ticket, JD Vance, who is underwater by nine. And as they continue to rail against him, the right keeps making his fundamental point about them: They are just really weird. In today’s piece, I explore some theories about why Walz brings out the worst impulses of the right just by being who he is. Then I’ll lay down some political tarot cards and prognosticate about where I think this leads.

Politico Uno Reverse

By most identity measures, Walz should be one of the MAGA right. He’s a midwestern white dude in his late 50s. He loves to hunt and is a sharpshooter. He served for decades in the military and achieved the highest enlisted rank of Command Sergeant Major. He was a football coach who helped lead his team to the state championship. And yet, despite all these identity markings, Walz in an unabashed progressive. He is for reproductive rights and an ally and protector of gay teens. And there isn’t a bigoted bone in his body. It’s as if when Harris picked him, she played, as writer Anna Gifty Opoku-Agyeman succinctly described it, a “political uno reverse.” The Walz card threw it right back at them, as if to say, “I’m a guy just like you, but without any of the weird baggage.” The MAGA GOP’s base is supposed to include white guys like Walz. But here is living evidence that they don’t have all of them or the best of them. That’s why they’re so eager to discredit him, because if they don’t, as psychologist Julie Hotard notes, then Walz will stand instead as a model of what is possible. On many levels, an appealing, white, male Democrat is a far bigger threat to their sense of identity than even a biracial woman candidate for president.

[...]

Attacking Mr. Nice Guy

For the past two decades, the GOP has shifted markedly toward being a party of cruelty, of “owning” the libs and drinking their tears, and of being as unpleasant and in-your-face as they can be. That kind of behavior has been rewarded with appearances on Fox and other right wing media, fundraising dollars from the MAGA base, and a spot at the side or in the tweets of the ex-president himself. As author Patrick S. Tomlinson observed, Walz represents what shouldn’t be an extraordinary notion: that you can be a nice guy, supportive of women, embracing of gay people, and still be all the coded masculine ideals of soldier, football coach, hunter and father that the MAGA right believed it had a lock on. Plus, you can be all those things without ever asking weird questions about menstrual cycles, chromosomes and genitalia. The right even tried to make a big deal about Walz’s efforts as governor to ensure free tampons were available to girls in school. Rumors circulated that schools had been required to also put tampons in boys’ bathrooms, but those claims turned out to be untrue, while demonstrating how off kilter the right becomes over sexuality and gender. The “Tampon Tim” moniker didn’t stick. On the contrary, there are probably many moms and dads grateful for a governor like Walz who is thinking about their daughters’ needs.

Jay Kuo explains the real reason why the right is being driven crazy by Tim Walz: The fact that he has a profile that would typify a MAGA voter (football coach, military service, loves to hunt) yet is a progressive white dude (solid LGBTQ+ rights ally before it became fashionable among Democrats).

[mandiemegatron]

ꜰᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ

A Trafalgar Law/YN mini ficlet ✨️💖

Rated: G

Fluff, slow romance, Law being annoyed that he has emotions.

A/N: A lil gifty-poo for my friend @baka-tsuki - I hope you have a better night bestie and I hope you enjoy this lil treat 👀✨️💖

We love soft Law in this household! I hope you all enjoy 🥺💖✨️

Header by @baka-tsuki / @baka-tsuki-2 💖

The first time Laws skin brushed yours, it was like a spark had run through his fingers as he handed you a cup of tea, crawling up his entire arm until the tingles settled at the back of his neck. You didn't notice how the tips of his ears burned, and he breathed a soft sigh of relief when you turned away. He locked himself in his office the rest of that night, his face buried in his hands as an irritated huff left him every once in a while.

Annoying.

The second time, your shoulders had bumped each others as you leaned on the railing up top, enjoying the last few moments of sun shine as it set for the day. He knew you loved sunsets, always finding you watching the sun fall into nothingness every time the sub was ascended and somehow found solace in spending those quiet moments with you.

His heart skipped a beat as you sighed, an almost lost look on your face as the sun finally disappeared beyond the waterline, looking up at him with a small smile. It skipped again as you thanked him for staying; he was unable to return the smile but gave a short nod instead, basking in the grin you gave in turn.

Incredibly annoying.

The third time, you'd stumbled into his office, holding your bleeding left shoulder. Your knees hit the ground and he was out of his chair in a flash, gently yet firmly grasping you by the uninjured shoulder.

"Y/N-ya, what the hell happened?!"

He hated how his voice cracked, shock and worry slipping through the cracks in his skin as he flew into doctor mode. He didn't even give you a chance to respond as he summoned a room, the both of you disappearing in a blue bubble and ending up in the infirmary.

He helped you up onto a table, making quick work to scrub his hands as speedily as possible at the sink before rushing back over to snap on his medical gloves. He gently removed your bloodied hand, giving a low huff as he examined the damage.

"O-one of the boilers had a leak- I didn't move in time- OUCH, mother fucker, can you not?!"

He glared down at you as you snapped at him, his thumb pressing a bit too roughly right on the border of your burned skin. You both stared each other down before you relented, giving a roll of your eyes before looking down at your dirtied work boots.

There was an excruciatingly heavy silence that hung around you both as he worked, his fingers practically flying over your skin as he disinfected and brushed a salve over the burn. You hissed and groaned, squeezing your eyes and hands into fists, fighting back another snark as you bit the inside of your cheek.

"You need to be more aware of your surroundings-"

Your head snapped back to him, and you gave him the darkest look you could, trying to convey that you already understood and felt stupid enough as it was. It took him a moment, but it clicked eventually, causing him to sigh with an air of annoyance as he reached for the gauze.

"... at least I'll have a cool scar?"

His eyes were wide as he turned back to you, unable to wrap his head around how quickly your attitude changed, an almost cheeky grin covering your features as your feet swung back and forth slightly.

"Woman, you are absolutely insane, did you know that?"

You gave a chuckle and shrugged, unable to keep the grin from your lips.

"Ah, but of course! It keeps the locals away."

Law couldn't stop the snort that bubbled up, rolling his own eyes as he began to wrap your upper arm and shoulder, his lips pressed into a firm line for a moment before he retorted,

"No wonder you fit right in. Apparently, I have a habit of adopting weirdos." His voice was almost mocking, though a joking tone made its way through easier than it had before. How he ended up here, able to make jokes with one of the most annoying yet cute people ever, perplexed and irritated him to no end.

Absolutely, incredibly annoying.

He had just finished cleaning you up, moving less than a space away as he snapped off his gloves, tossing them onto his tray when you suddenly grasped his one tattooed hand with your uninjured one, a gentle thumb brushing over his knuckles.

"You are the best doctor in the world," you gushed with a slightly smaller smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before letting it fall back to his side. Your cheeks burned as you finally looked up at his face, feeling your stomach flip-flop as his own cheeks flushed pink.

"Yes, I'm aware."

He internally smacked himself over the head, sighing with a huff as he ran the hand you didn't touch through his messy hair.

"... I, uh ... thank you."

You gave him a swift thumbs up and hopped off the table, quickly making your way to the doors as you threw over your shoulder,

"Anytime, boss. See you at dinner!"

Before he could respond, you flew out the doors the second you opened them, slight panic on your face as you booked it to your shared room with Ikkaku, ripping the door open and slamming it shut. Your back hit the door and you exhaled slowly, trying to calm your racing heart.

"Ugh, disgusting. Who said you could give me feelings, you rat bastard," you murmured to yourself.

The fourth time was that night, out on the deck once more as the sun slowly fell behind looming storm clouds. Law made his way to you and glanced over your wrapped shoulder, ignoring your sounds of protest as he gently poked and prodded.

"Oi, come on man, that sucks- ouch, Law!"

He stopped, his hands not moving from your skin though his eyes met yours, an unrecognizable look in his eyes. You rarely, if ever, called him his name. He decided then and there that he could listen to you say it over and over and never get sick of it.

"Y/N-ya, I apologize."

His voice was low, genuine in his apology as his eyes never left yours. His heart jumped when your eyes flickered to his lips, your own pressing into a thin line as you stared back up at him. It was only a few moments before you sighed softly through your nose, eyes closing as you leaned into him.

"I'm too tired to argue with you," You moaned out, the side of your face meeting his chest as he turned to hold you. He was stiff, an embarrassed look on his face as he thanked whatever gods were up there that everyone else had retired inside for the night.

As the sun finally disappeared, Law looked down at you, his gaze meeting the top of your head. After a moment, he gave a sigh of his own, his forehead meeting the top of your noggin as he finally began to relax. It felt so foreign, having a warm body in his arms and the feeling of warmth that filled his chest.

"We should go in," he murmured into your hair, unwilling to move or lift his face from your hair. His stomach flipped when you chuckled softly, pulling away enough to look up at him with an almost pleading expression.

"Can we just stay out here a little longer? Please?"

Your plea was so quiet, the sound almost not meeting his ears, and he couldn't fight back the small smile that washed over his lips as he relented.

"Alright brat, just a little longer."

Maybe... not that annoying.

A/N: WEEE WELL, there we have it !!! It took me about 3 hours to write and beta so if there's any mistakes, it's cos I was stoned and missed it! 😂✨️💖

I hope you all enjoyed, please like and relbog if you did, we love a soft Law in this house 😭😭😭😭

Love you all, be good my little tangerines! ❤️

[kikiiswashere]

Children of Zaun - Chapter 25

Pairing: Silco/Fem!OC

Rating: Explicit

Story Warnings: Canon typical violence, drug use/dealing, dark themes, smut

Chapter Summary: Vander is stressing the fuck out. Maybe a little giftie will calm his nerves. Katya dissociates like a champ.

CW: References to sexual assault, trauma responses, severe dissociation

Previous Chapter

Word Count: 5.8K

The weeks leading up to Snowdown were a complicated whirlwind for Vander.

One afternoon, Sevika had burst into the tavern, grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him to the back of the house. She hurriedly whispered about what had happened in the mines: that Silco and Katya had gotten into a fight with Kells. Kells severely injured Silco, and Katya had pushed Kells to his death. It seemed to be undecided whether that had been an accident.

Silco confirmed the events when Vander went to see him the next day. Enyd had tubed Vander, asking if he could come sit with her son while she was out.

Of course he would.

He was not at all prepared for what he saw when he arrived.

His Brother’s appearance made Vander’s stomach drop to his steel-toed boots. Vice-like fear and anger clamped down on his heart. His silver eyes flitted around Silco’s face. The bandage across his nose, the stitches in his lip, the angry bruises and welts that covered his face . . .

Vander hoped that Kells knew – where ever his retched soul had wandered off to – how lucky he was that he was already dead. Otherwise, Vander would’ve hunted him down. Would’ve used him as the body to break his gauntlets in on.

Silco peered up at his friend from his languid position on the couch. His eyes glacier blue slits between the purple swollen folds of their lids.

“Make sure he stays still and drinks water and eats. His food may need to be mashed up a bit. Keep the apartment dark,” Enyd said as she pulled her thick sweater on. She wrapped a scarf around her head, and drew it up over her nose.

Vander nodded, but struggled to take the information in. He hadn’t realized just how badly the fight had gone.

Once Enyd left, Vander rushed to Silco’s side. He fought not to take up his Brother’s long, elegant hands. Even under the calluses and near-permanent stains of dirt, anyone could see that those hands didn’t belong wielding a pick-axe. They belonged writing policies and demands for Zaun; they belonged in big important buildings, shaking other important hands.

Vander very much wanted to hold them.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he listened as Silco told him what had happened. The whole story – from his perspective. Vander’s stomach roiled nauseatingly at hearing what Kells had been caught doing to Katya. The curdle deepened as he watched Silco’s face contort under the swelling: barely restrained rage flickering beneath. Dangerous fire.

“A couple of the Children carried me to the clinic,” Silco explained, his usually smooth voice rough and nasally. “They said they would take care of the story. There’s been no fall-out?”

Vander shook his head. “Nothin’. An’ no one’s gonna say nothin’. Kells wazza cunt who got what he deserved.” A beat, and then he asked, “How’s Katya?”

Silco melted back into the couch. The gesture felt more defeated than relieved.

“She’s . . . She didn’t seem okay when I left the clinic yesterday. When she told me to leave.” Silco’s chin dipped, “I should’ve stayed with her.”

Vander’s gut twisted. “Well, yer mum’s with her now. She’ll be okay.”

When Silco didn’t say anything, when his expression remained distant and forlorn, Vander became fidgety and added, “Don’ worry ‘bout it, Sil. Kells is gone, n’ no one’s tryin’ to make a fuss about it. Here. Just lie back. I’ll make you a cuppa, yeah?”

In the days following, it really seemed like the whole thing would blow over. That this mild wrinkle within the Children’s ranks had already been ironed out. Until one evening, about a week after Kells’s death, a small group of three older teen boys approached Vander in the early hours of The Last Drop being open.

Their timing was purposeful; only a small handful of beleaguered and elderly Zaunites were peppered around the tavern. Men and women who didn’t want to be talked with or entertained. They only wanted the momentary peace a rocks glass or tankard could offer before they had to get home, go to bed, and live another day. It was a time during working hours Vander was more available.

It was a time there were fewer witnesses.

“We need to talk,” one had said. His upper lip quivered as he took in the man-mountain before him.

Vander’s eyes narrowed, and he peered over the group. His customers appeared at ease, so he jerked his head, instructing the young men to follow him. His instincts fizzed as they trailed behind. The hair on the back of his neck pricked up, his muscles coiled and braced.

Vander slid into one side of a shadowed booth. The others toddled in awkwardly with all the grace of new whumplings fighting for space in the nest, shoulders bumping and legs twisting together.

“What’dya need?” he asked once they were settled across from him.

His eyes cut from one face to the next. He recognized them as part of the gaggle that had orbited around Kells, but knew none by name.

“You heard about what happened in the mines a couple days ago,” the one on the right said. He was wiry with curly brown hair and pale skin. Dark green eyes blinked up at Vander under thick lashes.

Had his instincts not been priming his mind and body for some kind of fight, Vander would’ve thought him pretty.

“Aye. I have.”

“Well, what’re you gonna do about it?” The middle one demanded.

Vander’s nostrils lifted. This one had limp dark-blond hair, a pug nose, and too-round cheeks that were splotched angry-red.

“I wasn’ aware there was something to be done about it.”

“Silco killed Kells!” the one on the left hissed, his dark brown skin radiating vengeful heat. Black-brown eyes blistered beneath his thick, ebony hair.

Vander’s eyes flashed quick-silver. “He didn’.”

“He was going to if the medic he’s been eyeballin’ hadn’t’ve jumped in!” the middle one said, pig-nose flaring. “They probably planned it together.”

Vander shot up from his seat, knuckles hitting the table with a crack! as he braced his arms and loomed menacingly. The three young men collectively jumped, and hunkered back into the booth. The vinyl at their backs crackled as if in warning. Gone were their indignant expressions, replaced by utter shock and fear as they beheld the behemoth lording over them. Vander’s body and wrath blocked out the little light that reached into the booth’s alcove.

“Listen up,” he hissed, his voice all growl and warning grit. He bared his teeth at them and loomed closer. “Kells died ‘cause he made a stupid, evil decision” – it wasn’t his place to speak about Katya’s assault, so he kept it firmly tucked down his throat – “n’ he got what he deserved, frankly speakin’.” He leaned closer, broad shoulders hunching up threateningly like hackles on a beast, “This conversation is over. ‘N if I catch a whiff of any of ya tryin’ to rustle up more problems, you’ll be the first bodies I test my gauntlets on. Savvy?”

After a beat, all three reluctantly nodded and crawled out of the booth, scampering for the door.

Vander stalked back behind the bar rubbing his temples, mind spinning like a top.

It was one thing to fight with Topside. It was another for it to happen amongst the Children. The burgeoning rebellion wouldn’t withstand in-fighting. Zaun would bleed out, wouldn’t make it past its infancy, and be buried by Piltover again. The Children of Zaun needed to stick together, Brothers and Sisters arm-in-arm; an impenetrable wall of scrap metal, zeal, and will.

Then the threat he’d delivered to those three yellow-bellied malcontents . . .

“‘N if I catch a whiff of any of ya . . . .��

A wince creased Vander’s face. He didn’t suppose threatening Brothers and Sisters did anything for morale or loyalty. There was the chance that he had just made things worse. He shouldn’t have done that. He needed to keep his temper in check.

That was difficult when his Brother was concerned. Vander was protective of Silco, loyal to him – perhaps even more so than he was to Zaun. Although, Vander felt they were often one in the same. Yes, they had dreamed up the idea together, small and squatted behind minecarts, but Silco latched onto Zaun like it was air. Cleaner and purer than anything in Piltover. He had always led the charge from there on out. And Vander was at his side.

“Yer as loyal as a dog to ‘im, Van,” Benzo had said one night, long before the Children of Zaun.

He had said it with a certain amount of distaste that had Vander’s brow curling questioningly.

“He’s my best mate. ‘Course I am.”

Vander’s heart and shoulders softened at the memory. But immediately tensed again when he recalled what the blond teen had said.

“He was going to if the medic he’s eyeballin’ hadn’t’ve jumped in!”

Vander’s hand dropped heavy onto the bar top, gathering empty glasses and crumpled napkins. The comment had been innocuous, and utterly meaningless. The shithead had only meant to implicate Katya. But that little throw-away barb had slid under Vander’s ribs as if expertly laced.

“Oi! Vander!”

A customer in need of a refill pulled the barkeep from his head. Landed him right back into the moment like someone dropping a melon off Old Hungry. Grateful for the distraction, Vander went back to work.

Then time flew fast and the cold season fully settled over Piltover and Zaun, like a great, chilled blanket. The Lanes became smokier than normal, Zaunites reallocating what little funds they had to purchase wood and coal for their stoves. Less food, more heat; the pendulum of necessity ever swinging.

The Children kept meeting, kept preparing. A squad was set up to track Enforcer movements; where they had been, what their routes were, who they had spoken with and what answers they were given. Another group became designated runners for the supplies that pirates, independent merchants, and other morally grey characters smuggled in, and were paid with Airship coin.

Other members volunteered their homes and businesses to house the contraband: small armaments, scrap metal that would be smelted and repurposed, bottles of liquor too strong to drink but could be lit and chucked at Enforcers for when the time came.

However, the chill and impending holiday put a firm hold on both Piltover and the Undercity, stymying plans and regular schedules. On either side of the Pilt, families and businesses prepared for Snowdown, the holiday’s sentimental pull too strong for anyone or anything to fully deviate from it.

It went unspoken, but there was a sense in the Lanes – in Zaun – that this Snowdown was more poignant than those before. The holiday was about gathering, gratitude, and looking to the promise of the new year ahead.

The promise that this coming year would be the birth of their sovereign nation. Or, at least, the true beginning of the labor process.

This would also be the first Snowdown at The Last Drop Vander ran entirely alone. He’d more or less run it the year before, but the old proprietor – sick and dying – had been back in the living quarters, able to offer instructions and advice in that deep, throaty voice of his. Vander would take the wisdom with him back to the front and resume hosting duties.

But he was dead now.

The barkeep sighed as he cleared the taps for the busy night ahead, looking around at the bedecked tavern. The decorations were meager, but festive. Annie had festooned the pillars separating booths with garlands of colorful paper, dolloped the jukebox with a tangle of tinsel, and had put fresh candles on all the tables. Beckett suddenly appeared from the back; his strong, freckled arms loaded with extra stools.

Vander was grateful for the pair’s help. In the past weeks, Benzo had finally healed up enough to get back to his own business. Cairn stayed on to help at the pawnshop, instead of returning to The Drop. Benzo needed the extra pair of hands – his injury notwithstanding – and Cairn enjoyed the trade more than busing tables.

Vander certainly couldn’t blame him for that, and felt no ill-will toward the young man. Besides, now he had Annie to help. And while she was spacy, loud, and intense, she was good at her job and the customers loved her. Beckett was an added bonus; because where ever the dark bluenette went, he followed dutifully.

“Just put ‘em anywhere, Van?” Beckett asked, craning his head over the seats he carried.

“Yeah. Jus’ pepper ‘em ‘round the walls if ya would.”

As Beckett nodded and hauled the stools off, Annie burst through the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, her thin arms laden with more candles. Great, fat pillars this time. Vander sighed, although the woeful sound did not impede the young woman’s trajectory toward the booths.

“Annie. I think we’ve enough candles.”

She began stacking them artfully on the booth tables. “Nuh-uh. Never. They create ambience.”

“Ambience and drunk people don’ mix,” Vander said, a hand rubbing at his forehead.

“It’ll be fiiiiiiiiine.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it, Van,” Beckett hushed as he carried the remaining stools over to the other side of the tavern.

Vander sighed, let it be, and continued prepping the bar’s stock.

A few hours later, The Last Drop was packed. Revelers young, old, and in-between stuffed the tavern to its gills. Most were members of the Children. Those that weren’t mingled with hope on their faces, intrigue glittering in their eyes like stars. The jukebox played on repeat, a long string of plucky, jovial tunes interspersed with the eager and happy chatter of the patrons. Ale and liquor flowed with abandon. Annie’s candles glowed and flickered invitingly. Vander had to admit that they did look beautiful. The soft, buttery glow of the flames brought a holy quality to the space. It inspired a bone-deep hope to flower in his chest.

Benzo and Cairn showed up about an hour after the bar opened for the night. The room burst into raucous cheers as Benzo threw up his meaty arms and greeted loudly, “BLESSED SNOWDOWN!”

Close behind the pair was Tolder and his brood, Sevika bringing up the end of the line. Once her younger siblings were inside, she whisked to the bar.

“Is Nasha here?”

“Haven’ seen her,” Vander answered filling a glass with caramel colored ale and handing it to a customer. “Bu’ she may be here n’ I haven’ noticed. Bit busy.”

“Yeah, just a bit,” she muttered, throwing her head around in search of the other girl. She smacked her palm against the bar top twice. “I’ll be back.”

Then she strode into the crowd, her head swiveling, eyes searching. A small smile crinkled the corners of Vander’s eyes as he watched her go. Then an empty tankard skittered across the bar and he fell back into work.

Sometime later, the crowd erupted again. Not as loud as when Benzo entered The Drop, but the swell of noise caused Vander to look up. His first full smile of the night spread across his face. Silco wove between tables, chairs, and customers, greeting people as he went with a small nod, or reserved wave.

“No Enyd?” Vander asked as Silco finally made it to the bar top.

His Brother’s lips thinned into a rueful, forced grin. He shook his head, dark hair fluttering about his face like curled shadows.

“No. She’s tired.”

The subtext of the message flicked at Vander’s heart with a mighty twang. Like it had been snapped with a rubber band.

She’s tired.

Her cough is especially bad. Has been bad. Is getting worse.

“What can I get ya?” Vander asked, hoping to distract Silco.

“Hmm? What?” Silco’s head – which had turned and was surveying the crowd – snapped back to Vander’s face. “Oh. Whisky. Please.”

Vander grinned and nodded. It was simple and quick, but preparing the two fingers of burnt amber liquor pleased him more than all the tankards of ale he had filled and refilled thus far. As he placed the glass in front of Silco, he was surprised to see a long, thin package on the counter between them.

“What’s this?”

“A Snowdown gift.”

Hot blush bloomed across Vander’s face. His heart swelled to the point of bursting. Then, honey-sweet hope once again dared to spread under his skin.

“Ya didn’ have to get me anything, Sil.”

Silco smirked and shrugged. “I wanted to.”

The blush on the back of Vander’s neck turned beet red as he sheepishly reached for the gift. It was wrapped in brown paper that had been crumpled and reused to the point of softness. Like thin suede.

Slowly, he peeled the wrapping away. A slender knife was settled in the worn curls and wrinkles of paper, its blade long with a gentle curve. There were a couple nicks in the metal that could be consider defects, but the worn appearance felt distinctly Zaun-ish to him. The handle was nearly half the length of the blade, wrapped in soft taupe-colored leather. The pommel was embossed with artful swoops.

Vander’s eyes roved over the knife, throat squeezing tight.

Then his gaze caught another detail: below the guard, on the first pleat of hide, the letter ‘V’ had been carved. The tightness gripping his throat intensified. Firelight wings beat and tickled his stomach to the point that Vander thought he might be sick with joy. Never before had he fought so hard to not reach for Silco, and draw him in close. To grab for his collar and pull him in for a kiss.

He refrained, though. Once again convincing himself that this wasn’t the time or place.

A small, love-hungry voice from deep inside cried out: “When will be the right time?!”

Not now.

Soon.

Hopefully.

Please.

Carefully tempering his expression in to one of bridled gratitude, Vander looked back up at Silco. His Brother eyed him with that smarmy, cocky half-grin and lifted eyebrow. Vander’s finger pads dug into the bar top to keep his hands from reaching out and grabbing for him. Everyday, it got harder and harder to do that.

Instead, he reached for the package and drew it closer.

“Ya didn’ hafta do that, Sil,” he murmured appreciatively.

“For when your fists get tired of beating Enforcers.”

An amused huff blew from Vander’s nose. “Thank you. I love it.”

Silco inclined his head, and lifted his glass to Vander. “Happy Snowdown, Brother. Next year may we be celebrating in a free nation.”

The weeks leading up to Snowdown were a heart-straining, soul-sickening series of days for Katya.

The third day after her assault, another gut-wrenching meltdown pulled her under. She couldn’t decide, in retrospect, if she had been grateful that Enyd was there, or if she wished she could’ve crumpled in private.

She had been standing at the kitchen sink, washing a cup. Enyd was gathering their lunch dishes from the table. Suddenly, Katya’s mind played an incredibly cruel prank on her: a phantom pressure at the crux of her thighs. Where Kells had groped her. She started with a gasp; eyes peeled wide. The cup fell from her hands as her legs buckled, and she tumbled to the cracked linoleum floor.

Blood rushed in her ears.

It kept her from hearing the wail that ripped from her throat.

At once, Enyd was at her side, drawing her close. Despite being so petite, she enveloped the young woman in a way only a mother could, all love and comfort. She spoke, lips and jaw moving against Katya’s temple, but the sound couldn’t penetrate the rush of blood in her ears. Nor the pummeling realization that ghostly sensation had brought her.

“I killed him. I killed him. I killed him – “

“Shhhh . . . Breathe, Katya. Breathe – “

“I killed . . . I killed him. I didn’t mean – “

A wail ripped itself from the base of Katya’s throat. She hadn’t meant to kill Kells; just to get him off of Silco. She didn’t know if her memory was playing tricks on her, but now the scene that played in her head contorted Kells’s face into one of abject fear as he tumbled over the turbine’s edge, limbs scrabbling for help.

But she hadn’t helped.

She had pushed.

Then watched.

Despite how vilely he had treated her, she had been unprepared to punish him with such finality. Dread and shame cemented in her arms and legs. The weight making it impossible to escape from the scenario playing over and over again in her head.

Sevika had said he had had no family. That there would be no trouble for her.

No trouble from the outside world, perhaps. But her insides roiled with it. Tentacles of humiliation slithering in her veins. Regret stabbing at her like claws.

“Katya. Katya. Look at me.”

With more force than the mother probably wanted to use, Enyd gripped Katya’s jaw between her fingers, jerking her head to the side so their eyes could connect. Spit, snot, and tears dripped over Enyd’s strong hold.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Katya. It was an accident. None of it was your fault. Do you hear me?”

Katya sniffled and trembled between the claw-grip. Her lips blubbered, an attempt to insist Enyd was wrong on the tip of her sob-thickened tongue.

Whip-fast, Enyd’s hand curled around the back of Katya’s head and tucked the young woman in closer.

“I will tell you as many times as you need to hear it. It’s not your fault. None of it.”

Katya did not know how long they stayed, curled up on the floor. She didn’t remember moving, but when her conscious mind turned back on, she found herself back on the couch, blanket tucked around her. Enyd sat at the far end, a sewing project in her lap.

Katya’s insides felt like sludge. Her throat burning from having been screamed raw. She turned her head against the couch cushion, eyes falling onto the accordion-style laundry rack Enyd had hauled with her that day. It was broken – one side’s legs having to be placed very carefully, as the bracing brackets had broken off – but it worked. Just like Enyd had promised.

She closed her eyes. At some point the couch shifted as Enyd rose. Then there was the soft press of lips to her temple, a loving murmur in her ear. When next Katya opened her eyes, Enyd was gone.

She went back to work the next day. Unwilling to keep eating up Enyd’s time. Hoping that the monotonous tasks of the clinic would dull the edges of the past few days.

Will pestered her when she appeared. Asked if she was okay. What had happened. Said that he was going to put in a formal complaint against Silco.

“Don’t do that,” Katya snapped harshly. “He didn’t do anything. It wasn’t him. I will be fine. Leave it.”

Will’s shoulders slumped, but he made the wise choice to not argue with her further.

As he wrapped his ratty coat around him, he said, “I finished stocking the supplies. I didn’t know why you had put some off to the side, but I put them with the rest of the inventory. Hope that’s okay.”

Katya stilled.

Right. Before she had gone to Fissure 27 – she swallowed down the bile gathering at the base of her throat – she had put a few items aside to stock for the Children and Enyd. She’d forgotten about it.

“Yes. That is fine. Thank you, Will.”

As that first day back slogged along, Katya kept looking at the clinic door. She didn’t know if she was wishing Silco would step through, or not. Part of her hoped he was still home.

She saw him next when she dropped off a bottle of medicine for Enyd.

Her heart made a home in her throat as she approached their apartment. The same mighty war raged within her as she knocked on the door: she craved to see Silco, then inexplicable shame would swoop in and fell that desire.

She shouldn’t expect his company, his companionship. She couldn’t pay the cost. Didn’t deserve it. Regardless of how much she may want it.

Agonizing relief sluiced over her bones when Enyd answered.

“Medicine,” Katya whispered by way of greeting. Reaching into her coat, she produced the larger bottle of decongestant. “Use the dropper from the smaller bottle. You could start taking an extra dose in the morning right now, since the cold weather makes your symptoms worse – “

“Katya,” Enyd crooned, taking the bottle and bringing a hand up to the young woman’s cheek. There was a pause, and she said, “Why don’t you come in?”

Katya shook her head, taking a step back. She flashed what she hoped was a grateful, but apologetic, smile.

“I cannot, unfortunately. I’m on my way to pick up Viktor – “

“Mum? Who’s at the door?”

Katya choked as her heart beat wildly in her throat. Her muscles tensed as they tried to decide whether bolting or freezing was the best option.

Then Silco appeared behind Enyd’s shoulder. He looked better than he had on her exam table. Bruising and swelling still puffed and discolored his eyelids and cheekbones, but it had since gone down. The bandage on his nose was gone, but the stitching on his lip stayed in place.

Katya’s throat wound tight. She was so happy, so relieved to see him. His presence a soothing balm to her scraped up heart and psyche. Yet, her boots remained rooted.

“Kat,” Silco said in a tone that danced between relief and excitement.

“I was just dropping off medicine for Enyd. I can’t stay. I need to pick up Viktor,” she robotically repeated.

The thick soles of her shoes shuffled against the floorboards, preparing her exit. Despite her leg’s attempts to walk away, her head and shoulders stayed facing the doorway. Her eyes glued to Silco’s.

She wanted to stay.

Wanted to talk with him.

Wanted to be with him.

Wanted him.

But she couldn’t. Shouldn’t. For reasons her trauma-addled brain couldn’t supply. Despite their lack of discernible motives, those thoughts won out.

“I need to go,” she said, and finally allowed her legs to carry her away. “See you both later.”

Like most of her movements of late, Katya didn’t remember getting to Piltover. The weight of the rucksack in her hand was the only thing that pulled her back online for a moment. She blinked. Her eyes fell on the worn canvas handle in her palm. She blinked, and then her eyes looked over and found Viktor. He looked back, open worry and confusion covering his face.

“What is wrong?” Viktor whispered to her when they took their seat in the conveyor car.

Katya pulled her lips into a reassuring smile. “Nothing. I am just tired. Long week, and I think I’m coming down with a small cold.”

The weekend past. On Monday, Katya took Viktor back to school.

The week past, too. A sludgy slog of colors and events that bled one into the next. Silco tried visiting Katya in the clinic, but she busied herself when he did. He stood dutifully near her during the Children’s meeting. His arms wrapped tight across his chest; fingers firmly tucked underneath his biceps.

Perhaps he was cross with her.

He should be, she figured.

Katya didn’t recall the meeting. Something about new supplies and updates on Enforcer activity.

She was, however, aware of the glances shot her way. The bitter, suspicious glares of Kells’s group of peers. Vander’s empathetic stare. He added a nod to it when she finally glanced in his direction.

Unwilling to linger, she slipped out just before the meeting ended; her bootheels a quick, snappy tap on the cobblestones.

“Kat.”

She froze, shoulders pitched up to her ears. This wasn’t the dream, but that call sparked the memory of it. Silco had called her then. Silco called for her now.

Slowly, Katya spun around, forcibly lowering her shoulders as she went. He wasn’t smiling like he had been in the dream. His face – which had become clearer in the passing days – was etched in an expression of deep concern.

In the dream, he had joyfully approached her. Now, he cautiously stepped forward. Like she was a wounded animal he didn’t want to spook.

She saw in his eyes that he wanted to say something.

“Can I walk you home?”

Yes. Yes, please.

“No, thank you. I can manage.” She gave him the same grin she’d given her brother, and turned on her heel.

“Kat.”

She stopped again. An unseen fist squeezing at her heart.

In the dream, the second time he had called, he’d come close. Close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. Now, Katya turned and watched him take a couple more steps.

“It is fine, Silco. Really.”

His footsteps stopped, the toes of his boots awkwardly scraping against the street. She heard the gulp he took, watched the way his hands flexed.

“Alright then. Get home safe.”

“Of course.”

Her legs carried her away. Something inside her wailed and begged to go back. It was promptly swallowed up by that beast that couldn’t stand the risk.

The weekend arrived, and Viktor came home. It past, and he went back to school.

Silco stood on Katya’s periphery all week. He would still stop by the clinic to check on her. He stood by her during meetings. But said very little, and Katya became acutely aware of how much she loved his voice.

Another weekend.

Another week.

Now, Katya sat on her couch. Her blanket cocooned her, as it had these past weeks. A great, fluffy shell that wrapped around her shoulders and haloed her head. The apartment’s light was dim. The air was quiet – save for the occasional clanks and hisses of the radiator. Despite it being the eve of Snowdown, she heard no celebrating outside her windows or door. There never was this deep in the Sump.

This year, the holiday had fallen in the middle of the week. Viktor was across the river. No doubt as lonely as she was.

She knew The Last Drop hosted a gathering for the holiday. It had for years. Even when her Papa had been a boy. Anyone who traipsed through the door was invited. She knew the Children would be there: Sevika and her siblings, Nasha, Benzo, Cairn, Annie, Beckett. Silco.

A vicious ache clanged through her. A yawning, angry emptiness that begged to be addressed.

But like when Silco had come after her that night to walk her home, the yearning was quickly gnashed between the pointed teeth of that same oily beast. Powerful, but slippery. Like it didn’t want to be looked at too closely. It simply wanted to swoop in, gobble up ridiculous things like desire, and retreat back to the shadows with little examination.

Just as the beast was about to recoil back into the vacuous recesses of Katya’s chest cavity, the yearning gave a mad thrash between its jaws. A powerful snap that threatened to crack the teeth that held it.

Katya’s heart swelled and lurched at the sensation. Sitting up straighter, she put a hand to her chest and pressed, as if that would dissuade any further tantruming from within.

The yearning jerked again, alive and insistent against the hold of its captor.

‘Go,’ it seemed to say as it attempted to pull itself from the serrated mouth that held it. ‘Go.’

A watery gasp blew from Katya’s mouth, and one of her feet dropped from the couch onto the floor. The movement, while not purposeful, finally caused the shadowy monster to scramble for a better hold. It braced itself against the cage of her ribs.

‘Don’t go,’ it hissed through a clenched jaw. ‘Don’t go.’

Katya blinked. Her shoulders dropped, as did her other foot.

Fear. That was the desire-eating thing. She knew it well. It had dictated most of her life until recently. Had kept her in-line until recently. Since her time with the Children – of feeling like she belonged to something, of feeling like she wanted something more – it had been skirted to the sidelines. Present, but not commanding. Kells, and what he had done to her had pushed it back onto the field, its stamina and intensity renewed from the break it had received.

Katya scooted to the edge of the couch, blanket dropping from her shoulders and gathering at her hips like soft folds of cumulus clouds.

That isn’t what she wanted. To let her desires decay and blow away in the wind. To let fear, Piltover, or anything else stomp out the inherent, wild value she had just begun to believe in.

The silvery slip of Desire caught in Fear’s jaws wriggled and thrashed excitedly. Fear strained, its claws losing purchase on her rib bones.

She wanted, she decided. She wanted to believe in her value, her worthiness.

Desire surged forward, most of its amorphous body slipping from Fear’s too-rigid teeth.

She wanted to trust in Zaun’s ability to pull itself out of the proverbial hole Piltover had made it dig for itself.

Desire whipped and twisted. Fear’s bite began to tire and give.

Katya stood and the blanket drooped to the floor. She wanted the same for herself.

With a final snap of its slender body, Desire broke free and gushed forward; just like how Katya’s feet strode for the door. Fear whimpered, empty jaws chattering, as it recoiled back.

Katya shoved her feet into her boots, grabbed her coat from its peg, and burst out the door.

Her legs moved so swiftly that it felt like she was gliding, flying through the Sump and up into the Entresol. She wove around Snowdown revelers and underneath twinkling chem-bulbs single-mindedly, quick and swift as a canary.

It didn’t take long for The Last Drop to erupt in front of her, all merriment, togetherness, and neon green lights. Her heart thundered, and Desire serpentined inside her belly. Fists squeezing in her coat pockets, Katya surged forward.

As she anticipated, The Drop was packed, the patrons – Children and others alike – wonderfully happy in each other’s company. A few people raised glasses to her as she stepped inside, and she offered them careful smiles.

Over in a booth decorated with a ridiculous number of candles, Sevika beamed at her, and threw an arm up in greeting. Nasha was slung over her lap, preventing her from getting up. She gave Katya her own wave, and returned her attention back to twirling Sevika’s hair between her fingers.

Katya craned her head over the crowd as she shuffled closer toward the bar. Vander’s massive form flitted behind the countertop with grace that belied his stature. His face was ruddy with happiness as he addressed his customers.

Her eyes traveled down the long bar.

Looking.

Searching.

Her heart stuttered at the sight of Silco. Desire sang a song she’d never heard before.

He held a drink in his hand, his gaze cool and aloof as it traveled around the tavern. Then, like a homing missile, his eyes finally found hers.

Blue met gold.

Notes: AHHHHH!!!!!! Guys. Guys. THINGS are gonna happen in the next chapter. This slow burn is gonna pay off! EEEEE! I hope you enjoyed this piney-pining chapter!

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear yout thoughts in the comments or reblogs ❤️

Coming Up Next: Katya asks Silco to show her Zaun again.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @pinkrose1422 @dreamyonahill @sand-sea-and-fable @truthandadare @altered-delta

[ayashii-klug]

Welcome to hell, how may I help you.

This blog is dedicated primarily to the hellish nikkiblr lore, but has other things included. Normal posts about Momo and Leonid are common.

As this follows the "Fashion Polycruel" AU primarily, Momo and Leonid are both trans women with Leonid additionally being cosmicgender. I ask that they do not be refered to with masculine things beyond their pronouns (He/Him and He/They respectively) when referring to this specific AU. Additionally, Faeline, while little is known about faer in the EN sphere right now, goes by fae/faer in this AU. I am petty and willing to block over this.

Tag guide

A number of tags are what they look like, however "Misc" in the first part of several tags can also be replaced with "Multi", being a tag for both text and various pictures.

Misc: Origins is about things I believe to be canon in the AU I'm writing with @ozeca that primarily focuses on the Fashion Polycruel. Will be liable to change, both retconning to an extent and adding things.

The Polycat Momocule refers to romance between Momo, Scarf, and Faeline. This includes stuff that only features one member.

Fashion Polycruel refers to the romance between of Mercury, Qin Yi, Zoey, Vulture, and Leonid, with Aloysius appearing later on. As before, it does not require all members to be present. Refer to @leonidsbignaturals and @fashionpolycruel for further information.

Fashion Polycool refers to the romance Aeon, Loen and Caprico. Not all members need to be present. Refer to @leonidsbignaturals for more information.

Momo-Gifty refers to the "Momo Clan = Gifty" lore. Currently only used for posts about how The Momo Clan and Gifties are related, not anytime where this is referenced.

The Fucked Up Siblings refers to Momo and Leonid. May or may not be about how they're siblings.

Maid AU refers to an AU where Leonid and Momo never fell into the abyss. This basically is my own homebrew frankly rather than nikkiblr things, but others are free to join in on the horrors. Please do, actually, I actively invite horrors for anything but especially this stupid AU it's consuming my every waking moment-

Peppermint's RPF Adventures refers to anything discussing how Peppermint writes RPF, ranging from Scarf's humanoid form to the Polycruel

[meowzfordayz]

hiiiiii t!!!! actually *ahem* ho, ho, ho!!! it is ME, your secret santa here to drop off a little teeny winter gifty just for you. i hope this season has been nothing but lovely to you and im sending you a big warm hug and a blown kiss. happy holidays!

“Hey love?”

Giyuu’s words are soft as the pillow you rest your head upon, whispered just below your earlobe. His face has been buried in your neck for an amount of time you’ve long lost track of, breaths coming in hot puffs against your neck. While you’ve dozed off thanks to the comfort of being this close to him, he has remained awake, gazing out of the small window above your bed to the winter morning outside it.

“Everything okay?” You ask, voice thick with sleep and mouth dry. He nods and you feel the sensation of his answer rather than see it. Snuggling closer to his side, he wraps one arm around your waist and holds you to him.

“Yeah, of course.” The velvety depth of his voice vibrates against your earlobe once again and both of your eyes open, looking down to meet his eyes that are gazing directly at you. “I only wanted to tell you that it snowed.”

It’s difficult for you to shoot up from where you’re laying with his arm wrapped around you but you manage and it makes the usually stoic man chuckle, following suit and sitting up so he can gaze out of the window with a better view.

Powder white snow falls in fat flakes and you gasp with the same enthusiasm he loves you so much for having no matter the situation. Giyuu rubs your back with his large, warm palm and he half smiles glancing at you, dark hair falling over his eyes.

“It’s beautiful.”

Your words are simple but they make your loving boyfriend’s heart warm to hear. Nothing on this earth comes close to as beautiful as you are but a still, perfect, winter snowfall is impressive by his high standards.

“Want to go out and enjoy it up close?” His offer makes you grin and nod, eager to enjoy wintertime hand in hand with the one who makes you feel the warmest of all.

Hii dearest anon !! ❄️ Your lil “ho ho ho” made me giggle 😉; sending you a hug and kiss back. 🤗💝💝

THANK YOU FOR WRITING SUCH A LOVELY MOMENT OF LOVE. 🥰 I swear I could feel Giyuu’s words murmured softly into my skin; I’ve dozed off pretty much exactly as you described w/ my irl bf many times, so this drabble was extra sweet to me. 🥺

“you feel the sensation of his answer” —> 🫠😍

“he wraps one arm around your waist and holds you to him” —> I wiiish 🥲💙

“dark hair falling over his eyes” ugggh he’s SO dreamy 😮‍💨🤍

THE ENDING OMG STAAAHP. 🤯🧡 “the one who makes you feel the warmest of all” I WANT HIM, I WANT THIS, PLS AND TY PLEEEASE. 😭😭😭💘 Me and my cold toes are waiting for Giyuu to come cuddle us. 😭😭😭💘

I’m grateful for you and your beautiful writing; tyvm for making me feel cozy and loved. 🩷💕💞💓💗

[lumiereandcogsworth]

it's mother's day so I must know, what was Belle's first one like, and if you've thought about it, what was her first with each kiddo like? does she have a favorite or special mother's day memory? what kind of gifts do the kids (and Adam) give her? 🥹💖

AAHH !!!! 💕💞💓

her first mother’s day with renée (AND EVER!!!!!) was precious but probably mostly uneventful, since renée was only a month old and was pretty much just crying or sleeping at that point. (mostly crying.) i know adam got belle a bouquet of roses (and said they were from renée, of course) and probably other little gifties because that man cannot control himself when it comes to gifts. but overall i think they’d spend the day half in bed and half outside !!! i’m sure the little family has a lovely picnic ☀️💖 and i think maurice would maybe give her a portrait of her & renée 🤧 and it makes belle cry because it Does look similar to the portrait of her and her mama… very bittersweet thing. i’m Sure maurice cried at some point while making it😭 anyway!! belle loves her baby so so so much. i’ve talked about it before but belle, of course, never really thought she’d get the chance to be a mama. because she Knew she’d only marry for the greatest of love. so the fact that she!!! GETS TO BE A MAMA!!! she’s so happy :”) i’ll link this fic since that’s where i discuss that topic more 💖

her first mother’s day with juliette (well, technically she was pregnant with her on a mother’s day, and renée was 2, and i’m sure that was a very sweet time!! but) juliette’s First mother’s day, post-womb, she was like ten months old!!!!!!! and renée was newly 3 years old and very Active and Excited about everything. this time adam put the the bouquet of flowers in renée’s little arms and he lifted her up onto the bed in the early morning and renée said “HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY, MAMA!!!” and dropped the flowers all over belle’s lap, which made her laugh SO hard. she wrangled renée into her arms and kissed her a million times. baby juliette was there too, getting snuggles from her mama all day long 🥰 i think maurice would make a tradition of his gift, and he made a portrait of belle and her two (!!!) daughters.

her first mother’s day with little maurice !!! (again, she was pregnant with him during a mother’s day, but anyway) reecy was six months old. little guy :”3 renée was 7 but juliette was still 4. it was LOVELY!!!!! spending lovely time outside. i can picture belle sitting under the shade of a tree, rocking her little baby son, while her daughters (especially renée) are bouncing around her, telling her stories, including her in imaginary tea parties and warriors’ battles in equal measure. adam is there too, playing and just loving his family endlessly. and of COURSE ! grandpa maurice presents belle with another painting, this time of her and her three little beauties 🤧 it’s just always such a lovely daaaaayyy

in terms of gifts from adam, it’s mostly flowers and jewelry. he knows most of all that belle just wants to spend the day with her babies, so he lets her take the lead on this day and just spends time with his darlings. they do whatever belle wants to do, which is usually just outdoor activities like walks or horseback riding.

a mother’s day memory that belle loves is when renée was four. she’d been Really wanting to ride the horses, like even before she could speak she’s always been so fascinated by them!!! but up until this point, adam had been hesitant about it. belle was too at first, but around when she was three, belle started pleading with adam too to let her try lmao. so he said when she was four, Fine. renée turned four in april, but they were in paris at the time, so they did other fun stuff less horse-related. they came back home just before mother’s day, and so, on the day, renée rode a horse with her mama for the first time🥹 and adam was (Of Course) very nervous about it. he was standing there holding juliette on his hip just being like “and make sure you hold onto her, darling. and renée, RENÉE, hold onto the saddle horn. okay? don’t let go of it, macaron. are you hearing me?” and belle’s of course like just super excited, AND RENÉE IS BESIDE HERSELF!!!!!! (adam has to Keep telling her to put her hands back on the saddle horn, because she keeps flapping her hands all over the place). but eventually they go, slow at first, and renée’s just giggling so excited. and eventually philippe is trotting, then cantering, maybe even galloping !!! and it’s SO FUN !!!!! belle and renée are both laughing so much, adam can’t help but beam happily 🥹🥹🥹

gosh!!!!!!!! i think in general, the kids love to make her gifts. i think one year, renée tried to write a book for her. (when she was like. 8.) and adam’s like “wow that’s pretty ambitious!” and renée was like *elle woods voice * “what, like it’s hard?” afjskd. she ends up writing and illustrating a Very short story but her grandfather helps her bind the pages together and belle LOVES the gift so so so much. renée sits on her lap and reads the story to her and Gosh it’s so cute. but yeah anyway CRAFTS !! all three of them love making her drawings, on literally any given day, but they’ll go all out for mother’s day. they just love like, telling stories. because STORIES ARE THIS FAMILY’S LOVE LANGUAGE !!! they write little plays with their friends and act them out for her. they make storyboard/comic strips and show them to her. it’s just so !!! lovely.

i think juliette isn’t AS arts & crafts-y as her sister and brother, but she’s always there to go along with their ideas. i think later on in years, when juliette is a teenager, she writes little songs for her mama. like, not lyrics, but on the violin!! tunes that have essence of belle. and she then plays them for her mother and it always makes belle tear up 🥺 so juliette does end up being creative and artsy, just with her music !!

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Hey darlin'! I'm your assigned HBO War-Related Summer Gift Exchange Writer/Gifter. 👀

Consider this your first message- but I want DEETS.

What is your favourite season and why?

If you could choose between the forest or the sea, which would you choose and why?

I've already got ideas churning, so the sooner you type back, the sooner I'll be getting on your giftie!

Hello, sorry it’s taken me a little while to reply, work has been super busy today.

So for my favourite season I would have to say summer. I love the long summers days, the sun shining (not too much rain 😂 it literally rains all year in England) I love that you can go outside so much more too.

The next one is a tough one because I love walking my dogs in a forest. It’s so peaceful and quiet. But I also really love the sea and being near the coast so I’d have to pick the sea. There’s just something so soothing about being near the water.

Thank you so much for your asks, I can’t wait to see what you come up with 🩵

[returntosaturn271995]

Monday, July 31st: Sweep your floor

Today I experienced a problem that is also a gift...but still a problem. 

But in a gifty kind of way. 

Before I had my interview this morning with Power Digital (I got to the second round!) and got around to answering emails (got to the second round for MSL marketing as well), I decided today I was going to continue wanting to use the Nike Running app. After all, it got me to run 55 minutes last week. For those of you reading this (literally just me), that’s about an hour more than I usually run.

The interview ended. The coffee had me buzzing, I drank my collagen and applied my sunscreen and deodorant and my key lime sports bra and my giant headphones. I tied my Asics and put on Greta Van Fleet. 

And did one of the apps bonus easy runs: 7 minutes. A mile if you are decent at miles. I’m not yet decent but not indecent anymore. 

Low key? I felt bad, like I wasn’t adding to my progress. Which is crazy because a short run is still a run. It still completely counts, especially because it’s part of my daily walk to the beach and back so it’s not like I didn’t cover ground after that. I went faster than usual, bringing up my embarrassing average speed. I even got tired toward the end, so flexed my mental muscles there as well. 

The 35 minute run that’s on deck for this week just freaks me out a bit. What if I can’t do it? My furthest unbroken run is 22 minutes.

And the thing is, running for most of my daily walk has been a goal of mine for a while now. Somehow when I wasn’t looking it became easy for me to do. Too easy. Like did I even really do anything?

Same with Daily Yoga, I felt exhausted an hour ago and decided to just do 10 minutes of hip stretches. Even though my goal absolutely used to be just ten minutes a day, and when I was tired skipping over a practice wasn’t a big deal. But now 10 minutes makes me wonder if I’m getting more flexible, if I even can get more flexible without a longer session. 

Meditation, again, I haven’t skipped a day of mindfulness in 55 days. Earlier this year it was a big deal to get to 9 consecutive days. But I felt myself judging my “presence”. Wanting to hit that next step on the path to enlightenment. FYI, you don’t have to laugh with the universe to know that being goal oriented isn’t exactly the best way to kill your ego. The whole idea is to exist in the moment without judging yourself. Wondering if your spine can be straighter or your mind could be emptier is just a girl with OCD gnawing on her own chakras.  

I wanted to feel achievement and instead felt like my wheels were spinning. Ugh, I totally get this from Dad. He never heard good news that didn’t stress him out. 

I’m being consistent. I am improving. FAST. So why is it that when I take it easy, (a chapter of a book instead of the whole damn thing), it feels like I’m not doing enough? 

I used to think that if I could be the type of person who regularly did all these things that I’d be happy. My ceiling is now my floor and I’m impatient for the next ceiling. 

Stop. Feel the pride, goddamnit. Or one day you’ll be able to go 10 miles, and feel shitty about yourself because it wasn’t 11 miles. And then one day you’ll be dead and no one will give a fuck that you ran in the first place.  

When you’re establishing a new habit, it’s all about baby steps. Maybe it’s a good sign that I’m ready to take kid sized steps. But the initial efforts are what got me here. 

I swept my literal bedroom floors, then swiffered them, wiped down the dresser and bedside table, cleaned the mirror so as to not check myself out through a film of dust. I dragged the plant Katie left in to the corner of my room and read two chapters of 4000 weeks by Oliver Burkeman. The theme is there will never be a time in the future in which you will allow yourself to be calm, because you will just find new things to fret and plan for until you’re dead. 

You’re always going to have more emails. Today is enough. 

In “The Cost of Utopia”, the character Alexander Herzen is mourning the untimely death of his young son in a shipwreck. In this loss he comes to the realization that a child’s life is no less valuable even though he never was able to reach adult accomplishments: “Because children grow up, we think a child’s purpose is to grow up, but a child’s purpose is to be a child. Nature doesn’t disdain what only lives for a day. It pours the whole of itself into each moment...Life’s bounty is in its flow. Later is too late.” 

Just because I’m getting better doesn’t mean my purpose is out there in a land of dreamt potential. My purpose is in the here and now. Page by page, mile by mile, healthy choice after healthy choice. Maybe I’ll get there (I will) or maybe this is where I plateau, but I’m not going to stop cleaning my corner of the universe and sweeping this floor until it shines. I worked hard to get here and I’m going to honor the foundation I get to walk on, and yes, even take a little for granted. Later is not when I deserve to be happy.

Not when I actually got a lot of shit done today. 

[oswlld]

Hiii, I'm choosing things for your end of year requests!

Love the idea of:

•Semantic Error (fall vibes?) 👀

•Vice Versa (ted/rebecca "the best thing a male character can do") [my brain plays that pillowcase scene on a loop and I dont think I'll ever get over it?? Vegas with his pants in the pool did not phase me but this lil freak with his pillow? Forever ingrained. I love him.]

•Bad Buddy ("Even when you're not with him you're with him")

I'm excited to see anything you make 😊 Everything is just so cool, I'm always blown away!

Also: to absolutely RANT about an emoji since you asked for one:

This lil dude is apparently from tiktok? Now the thing that I need to rant about is not the emoji itself being ridiculous, but my reaction to it. It's a lil blue face crying emoji, which should be easy to interpret. My brain went "thats a lil floppy eared squid man with a giant moustache" bc apparently i do not understand the concept of a blue face with white tears as i fully thought the tears were just the white background. And I was seeing this emoji SO OFTEN that i was perpetually confused as to why so many people were using this squid man to denote... squid emotions? He was getting so much use and for reasons completely unknown to me. I cannot describe how much this plagued me for MONTHS maybe even a year? Just a blue face with white tears. I'd be even angrier about it but the blue squid man looks sort of sadly peaceful and I don't have it in my heart to hate him. 💔

Music rec: I'm With You- Vance Joy gives me big patpran vibes ☺️

FJSLKDFJ i saw the floppy squid man first too!!!! i said useless, this is the most thing i wanna use so badly 😂 Also, tysm for the song rec! its been a long while since i last listened to it (long before bb era) & its ✨very✨ patpran after posting the bb edit

SO, here are the gifties 🎁 :

Semantic Error + Fall Vibes

Vice Versa + Ted/Rebecca Insp

Bad Buddy + “Even when you're not with him”

have a great rest of the day/week/holiday/year!!

--

oswlld’s gift registry is CLOSED, but feel free to follow the tag #oswlld eoty gifties if you want to see all the gifted edits (or blacklist it lol)

[gowns]

...This is the problem with any climate policy, big or small: It requires an imaginative leap. While the math of decarbonization and electric mobilization is clear, the future lifestyle it implies isn’t always. Right-wing commenters sometimes seize upon this fact to caricature any climate policy as a forced retreat from modernity — Americans forced to live in ecopods — while on the left any accounting seems to cloud the urgency of the moment. A majority of emissions come from just 100 or so corporations, activists argue, a concentration of industrial production that, once decarbonized, could slash the footprint beneath every wall sconce and sandwich. Even if it were true, these arguments conveniently ignore one uncomfortable fact: Walmart, Exxon Mobil and Berkshire Hathaway didn’t burn that fuel on their own — we paid them to, or burned it ourselves, because the way we live depends on it. By any standard, American lives have become excessive and indulgent, full of large homes, long trips, aisles of choices and app-delivered convenience. If the possibilities of the future are already narrowing to the one being painted by science with increasing lucidity, it strains even the most vivid imagination to picture it widening again without a change in behavior.

This isn’t an American crisis alone. All around the world, nations have locked themselves into unsustainable, energy-intensive lifestyles... [...]

The problem of reducing our footprints further isn’t that we don’t have models of sustainable living; it’s that few exist without poverty. Imagine another typical household, this time somewhere in the rural tropics, like the Mara region in northwestern Tanzania. You live with five or six others, your husband, parents, grandmother and perhaps two kids, in a 700-square-foot house without electricity, maybe one you built by hand from sun-dried bricks. You cook with firewood and pay for 3G with the few dollars a day you make. All around you, people are clearing forests for corn and rice, damaging ecosystems that otherwise pull carbon from the air. To give your kids a better life, you move to the city, and as you make more money, you rent a bigger house, take more buses, buy an air-conditioner. All these improvements add to your quality of life, ticking you upward on the Human Development Index, but also expand your carbon footprint — the two being so closely tied they could be proxies. No matter your vocation or luck, the only real way for you to make your life better is to burn more fossil fuels. So you do — collectively elevating your country out of those with a footprint close to zero (Afghanistan, the Central African Republic) and into those around two tons: India, the Philippines.

This is the paradox at the heart of climate change: We’ve burned far too many fossil fuels to go on living as we have, but we’ve also never learned to live well without them. As the Yale economist Robert Mendelsohn puts it, the problem of the future is how to create a 19th-century carbon footprint without backsliding into a 19th-century standard of living. No model exists for creating such a world, which is partly why paralysis has set in at so many levels. The greatest crisis in human history may require imagining ways of living — not just of energy production but of daily habit — that we have never seen before. How do we begin to imagine such a household?

Late last year, I traveled to Uruguay in hope of glimpsing one possibility....

read more! [gifty link so you can read it without paywall]

[kamino-blues]

Gifts from the Bad Batch

Here are some of my ideas of what the Bad Batch would get you after dating you for a while! <3

Tech

Tech would make you both matching bracelets

These weren't normal bracelets though

There was a sensor in the charm of the bracelet, that connected the two of them

So when you touched the top portion of the bracelet, he would feel that touch on his own. And if you touched it, he would feel your touch

So if you were separated from him, you could just touch the bracelet so he would know that you were thinking about him

If you were ever worried about him, you could touch that bracelet, and even if he is in the middle of a gunfight he would press it right away

If you couldn’t go on a mission with him and his brothers, expect your wrist to be constantly tapped

It was incredibly endearing, and a good way to stay in contact when you couldn’t call him

He decided to teach you morse code so you guys could send messages through the bracelet

You have a special tap to tell each other that you love each other

Either way there is constant taping on both of your ends

Hunter

He would gift you one of his spare headbands, as they were always something you would play around with when he was wearing one

He was getting sick of you untying it from his hair and placing it in your own

If you have longer hair, when he gifted it he would turn you around and tie your hair into a ponytail with it

If your hair is shorter, he would tie it around your wrist

If you were going out you would wear it on your wrist, being able to fidget with it and hold onto it made you think of him

Sometimes you would put it into your hair like he does, and just follow him around

He would end up ruffling your hair and then pulling it out to put on top of his currently worn headband, giving you a taste of your own medicine

Wrecker

He would totally get you a plushie

Not any plushie, he would get a tooka doll that had markings that look like his armor

He got this idea of getting you this because you would always hold onto Lula when you were waiting for him to get back from long missions

He would often come back to see you asleep in your bunk, holding tightly onto his plushie

This plushie will not leave your side when you are in the barracks

Like, sometimes Wrecker will get jealous over how glued to your side this plushie is

Its the perfect gift that makes you think of him when he is away

Crosshair

Crosshair is not the most gifty of the group, he usually doesn’t do this sort of thing

But as you two started to get more serious, he decided that he wanted to get you something

So that you can have something to remember him when you two are separated

What he came up with was a necklace with his crosshair symbol on a metal charm

He made it himself, carving on the metal when he was waiting for a mission to start

Honestly its such a nice gesture, you weren’t expecting it at all when he gave it to you

Ended up with you pulling him into a huge hug, him tensing for a second before hugging back

You never take it off, you wear it while you sleep

You run your hands over it and fidget with it to try and calm yourself when you are stressed

If he's ever on a mission that you can't go on, you end up holding onto his charm for the majority of time he isn't there

Echo

You had heard stories from Echo about the 501st and his past

You had only known him when he was part of the Bad Batch, so hearing his stories when he was working back with a Jedi had always intrigued you

You just hadn’t known that he still had remnants from his past

One day Echo told you to close your eyes and hold out your hands

You felt something placed in your hands, feeling like the plastoid armor he usually wears

He tells you to open, and you see a piece of white plastoid, with what looks to be a portion of a blue finger on the bottom right of it

He explains that this was part of the armor that he used to wear when he was with the 501st, and that he wanted you to have it

You quickly hug him, a wave of emotions coming over you at the fact that he would gift you something as important as this

With Echoes permission, you were able to string it to be a necklace, and you make sure the charm lays over your heart

[igglemouse]

Episode 4 ~ The Gift

I didn’t have many places to hold a conversation at in my house. There was the living room and my couch or the small area carved into the kitchen that counted as a dining room. That’s where we decided to chat.

It took a while to get her to get to the reason she was over here. First she wanted to indulge in small talk about gardening and vegetables and farm animals, things that did interest me but right now my whole little farm was an aside to what was currently going on in my life. So it was time to get to why she had come over.

Julius: You said it was urgent. Is this about a festival or-

Athena: No, no, it’s...

She paused for some time, unsure of how to continue but forcing herself to do just that. 

Athena: What if I knew a way that you could be normal?

Julius: Normal?

Athena: Not a vampire, I mean.

Julius: Wait, what?

She knew? How did she know? I guess me hiding out indoors during the day time is a hint but I don’t think it could lead to a rational person thinking I was a vampire. I was going to deny, that’s the general rule when someone suspects, deny and make them feel like they are the crazy one. To gaslight them and move on. 

Athena: I told you that I was part fairy-

Julius: I thought that was a joke.

Athena: It is, in a way, but the truth can be a joke sometimes too.

Julius: Ok, ok, part fairy...

What does that even mean? I admit, I know little next to nothing about fairies. I know they exist and can sometimes be very powerful but outside of that?

Julius: What are you proposing, exactly?

Athena: You seem like an alright guy that’s stuck inside the destructive nature of your species. You must destroy to live, after all. But there is a way out. I could help you. You could be normal for once.

I found myself shaking my head. What is normal for me is this. I was born a vampire and to imagine being mortal and human? No way. It seemed far from my normal at least and a betrayal of who I am. 

Julius: No thanks Athena. If that’s your plan-

Athena grinned: Just think about it. I’ll be around if you ever change your mind.

Index - Next

[justafairytailofinnocence]

Hi!! Can i please have a HP, LOTR and Marvel matchup?? (and forgive me if I make a mistake in the writing, I'm not fluent in english yet♡)

I'm pansexual and genderfluid, that uses all the pronouns.

I'm a brazilian, my house is Slytherin (but I have LOTS of Ravenclaw qualities), my sign is Leo and MBTI is INTJ. I have tan skin, dimples, brown eyes, straight black hair that goes below my waist and bangs.

About my body, I think what stands out the most are the really thick thighs and the hands and feet that are really small. I wear glasses (I have astigmatism and myopia, my grade is VERY high); where I live is SO hot but i really like to wear sweats and pants so sometimes it's kind of hard but i think I wear any kind of clothes? I like to experiment with new styles and I really want to dye my hair but I didn't have the opportunity; I'm absolutely addicted to wearing necklaces, bracelets and especially rings, I'm always wearing several.

I have a quiet, observant, sarcastic and motherly personality, although from a distance it seems that I will be rude to you, I will actually be very calm and give you soft smiles. I can get stressed out easily but I don't show anything but glare, and above all I NEVER raise my voice, even in a fight the only thing I'm going to do is keep my voice calm with a firm, authoritative tone. I LOVE protecting and caring for people and listening to them talk about what they like, I always give them my FULLY attention. My love language is 100% touch, I am always touching the people I like and care about. Another thing is that I'm not a submissive person in a relationship, like no.

I'm completely in love with all kinds of art, especially dancing (I'm ALWAYS dancing while listening to music, which is pretty much all day long) and drawing/painting (sometimes I end up doing a whole drawing and not even realize it). I love reading and I always have a book with me, physical or digital. I love animals, I have cats, dogs, parrots, turtles and cockatiels, and I would give my life for them all without a second thought. Oh, I also love anything horror related with passion and bake, most of the time I don't even eat, I just bake and give it to people because I love it when they say they like what I made.

(I hope it's enough, thank you!!♡♡♡♡)

Hello dear 💖 we have three matchups today and the first one is:

Harry Potter I ship you with:

Draco Malfoy🍏

- he is entranced by your beauty aside from looking elegant and your unique style had caught his eye.

- he would buy you gifts such as jewelry and your favourite food. He's trying to impress you often he's a very gifty person so he has a lot of money.

- you would need to keep out for pansy she's jealous and was in love with Draco she finds you a compition.

- you love animals good, fun fact he has a albino peacock garden. Yeah and two pureblooded Irish wolf hounds.

- he would invite you over to his manor for tea and yes his father is intimating infact really intimidating. You ignore it though due to the fact you love your boyfriend.

- you two wed in the manor you wearing a green ballgown wedding dress. your child would be a Slytherin with your black hair and Draco's grey eyes.

For lotr I ship you with:

Thranduil👑

- he is a king that you brought his attention to with your beauty. You have the personality he desires as a queen.

- despite being a cold elf he couldn't help but melt with your personality and touch. He loved to hold you in private and gift you animals.

- he would teach you how to fight even though if your not good at it. He would make sure you would be the best.

- legalos is fond of you being his new queen however at first glance thranduil didn't think too much of you, But due to your stubbornness he grew to adore you.

- you became a dancer for the elfs and you hypnotised thranduil with your moves.

- your art was enduring as well having the potential to portray illustrations of elf culture.

- your wedding was in the castle and you were crowned queen. Your child is a elf hyrbid with long blonde hair and your tanned skin with your brown eyes.

For marvel I ship you with:

Loki 🐍

- you were on a mission with the avengers when you were suddenly kidnapped. Loki was interested in your life style until he deemed you worthy as a queen.

- you were converted sides to his throne. When you thought being evil wasnt your style you manage to convince Loki to come to the good side.

- he wouldn't listen to anyone but you. You put the best things into him.

- expect a couple of tricks such him disguising himself as your crushes. He would enter to passionately kiss you and reveal himself afterwards.

- the wedding would be in his dimension after you accepted aside from his tricks he genuinely loves you. Your child would be a demi good with long black hair and your brown eyes. They would have Loki's abilities.

Anyways that's all I have for now:

Ta Ta 💫

[walkingshcdow-a]

@ashortdropandasuddenstop | Hellhound!Norrington

Stolas sat in the meeting room, fingers tented smugly as he watched yet another politician sell away his soul for forbidden knowledge and a pathetically limited amount of power. These men, these humans, were so cute when they thought that, somehow, they were getting the better end of the deal when they summoned one of the Ars Goetia. This was a particularly important soul, too, so Stolas supposed Lucifer would either thank him for the pretty, little giftie or remind him of the overpopulation of the Pride ring. 

To be fair, Stolas had traded for other things in the past, but as he extended a delicate hand to the bloated, pale blubber of a man and smiled icily, he knew there were some things he valued far too much to offer so easily as a hand. 

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Stolas purred, finally cementing the Deal. There was no flash of light, no crackle of lightning - just a handshake, a document, and flashed, forced smiles on both ends.

The human politician spoke without letting go of Stolas’ hand, as if it comforted him to have something - or someone - to hold onto.

“Now that, uh, business is concluded,” he said, “would you mind calling off your guard dog?”

Stolas flicked his gaze over his shoulder at James. The human politician had no way of knowing just how right he was. Woof. Stolas smiled at his well-armed, well-built guard. How comforting to have such muscular and keen security these days! You would think such things were easy and cheap in Hell, but Stolas knew well enough that you always got what you paid for in the end. 

He’d paid quite handsomely for this hellhound and his services. He smiled at James Norrington slyly. He allowed himself to chuckle. Guard dog. 

“James-y, do be a dear and smile for the nice man,” Stolas said. “Apparently enough of your beautiful teeth aren’t bared for his tastes...”

Stolas broke the handshake and rose from the table, leaving the human looking alarmed and sick, the way they often did when they’d sold their souls to a demon prince. Stolas smiled at James and opened a portal to hell in the wall with the careful, dexterous motion he’d long ago learned to cross from realm to realm, place to place. He gracefully stuck one foot back in his home world, turning it to talon in just a moment. Stolas wiggled his toes and smiled his sharp smile back at the poor, pathetic human.

“I’ll be in touch and someone will come by to collect our due. Ta-ta and enjoy your power while it lasts!”

He stepped through, reverting to his demonic shape - feathers and claws and glowing red eyes - but did not close the portal until James followed him through. As soon as the portal sealed, Stolas set about preening his feathers. 

“Eugh,” he said, fussing with the feathers peeking out over the cut of his shirt, “the mortal realm is such a disgusting place. So humid, so... moist. It’s murder on the feathers. I can’t go home looking like this...”

He flicked his gaze - all four, red, glowing eyes - at James, who cut a dashing figure as a hellhound - lean and strong, well groomed. It seemed the humidity had done a number on his fur too. Stolas pouted.

“Aww, and it’s ruffled your nicely groomed fur, too, James-y.... I know! Why don’t we go get cleaned up before you take me home? I’m sure I can summon whatever we’ll require and I know a charming little place that doesn’t ask too many questions...”

After all, there was much to question when a Goetia and a hellhound checked into a hotel together and left only a few hours later. Stolas tried not to think of the implications.... but he didn’t try very hard to quell his excitement at the thought. What was the point of being royalty if you didn’t ruffle a few feathers every now and then, hmm?